My Name is Anonymous
by xXBlue-Rose-HeartXx
Summary: Elise has never known much about her past, kept in the dark about her parents by the orphanage she calls home. She is anonymous, with her real identity unknown. When strangers calling themselves exorcists appear at her orphanage though, and she's thrown into a war she didn't know existed, Elise begins to find that the truth isn't always what we want to hear. Slight OCXAllen


_AN:_

_After my two hour battle with the formating and just trying to figure out how this site works (I'm such a noob -_-; ) I finally managed to get this story up. This is an OC X Canon Story, so if you don't like, don't read. It will not be focused on just my OC, and the pairing will likely just be a friendship kind of deal. Of course if there does turn out to be romance, it won't happen until very far into the story, progressing over time like a real relationship. It's also not going to be yaoi, sorry if anyone is confused while reading it, but that situation will be explained. Anyway~ This story takes place a bit before the search for General Cross starts (Did that have a specific name? Ugh, I should know this stuff), starting off in Paris, France. Since I'm not fluent in French, I'm not going to write this entire chapter in the language. Instead, it will be written in English, and understood to be French unless said otherwise. _

_Disclaimer: D. Gray Man, it's plot, and it's characters all belong to Hoshino Katsura. I don't and never will own D. Gray Man._

_Claimer: I do own my OC's mentioned in this story, such as Emile._

* * *

The Du Vale orphanage was never considered a prize worth boasting about for Paris, and quite frankly, managed to stay as far away from becoming anything note worthy. It was nothing more then a small orphanage, founded by the Du Vale family, and dedicated to caring for children until they found a proper family. The only real importance it had to the city was as one of the more clean and well-funded orphanages, where mothers and fathers could leave their child for whatever reason.

There were currently eighteen children under the care of the orphanage's current head, Claire Du Vale, who the children regarded as Mother Claire. Many of those children had been abandoned shortly after their birth, likely as an alternative to infanticide or abandonment on the streets. Usually, these children were adopted before the age of fourteen. If there were a child brought to the orphanage around this age range, they would normally be adopted within a few weeks or months at the most.

Of course, there were always a few exceptions to that. There was always a child that would remain at the orphanage for much longer then expected. At the moment, the child who had remained at the orphanage the longest was Emile, a young boy of age fifteen. He had been at that orphanage since he was an infant, and seemed to do everything possible to avoid being adopted. He'd cause trouble, get into fights, and even go so far as to insult the families looking to adopt him.

Mother Claire had tried hard to find Emile an acceptable family, but any family that she brought in, he would push away. He refused to accept anyone but the perfect family, which both he and Mother Claire knew would not come easy. Many families overlooked Emile, with the boy only standing at 5'4" with little to no muscle to him, making him less useful when it came to manual labor. Though Claire never pushed Emile to accept a family he didn't feel was right, all though she did insist he take less drastic measures and simply tell her if he didn't like a family.

Emile had yet another family that was interested in adopting him, or any decent boy with a working ability. It was just another wealthy family looking for a boy that could do manual labor around the house. So of course Emile had made sure to make the family uninterested, this time, by simply leaving the orphanage for the day, hiding out somewhere on the streets of Paris. He often left the orphanage to roam the streets, enjoying seeing the beautiful architecture of the wealthier districts, and the men and women in their expensive clothing, so he was accustomed to all the twists and turns the city offered.

As he walked the streets, passing those who were clearly wealthier than him, Emile heard the murmurs and saw the looks the men and women would give him. It was normal of course, seeing as he was another orphan, dressed in what seemed like rags to these people. Emile found his trousers and coat quite comfortable, and it wasn't like they had holes or tears in them, really the only issue was the poor fabric choice and the fact that he didn't have an elegant suit or a fancy cane. Still, this would be enough to identify him as a working class child easily in a wealthy district like this one.

"Oh look, it's the little Du Vale orphan. Your fifteen years old, without a sou* to your name, with no parents, and there isn't a single person who wants to adopt you. What, you can't even do simple work, is that why no one wants you?" Emile heard the familiar taunts of some of the wealthier children that often wandered the streets as he did. It was always the same group, consisting of four boys around Emile's age, all from prestigious families. All though all of the boys seemed to be lacking in manners that were usually taught to children of their status, such as simply not getting into fights, because everyday they would seek out Emile, just to start a fight.

Emile ignored the young boys' taunts, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, and continuing to walk. "You're ignoring us? Didn't your motherever teach you better? Oh, wait, you never had one, did you?" one of them continued_, _beginning to cross the line for Emile. "I'll bet that she was a prostitute, who had thousands of other little orphans just like you. She probably got what was coming to her, and is laying on the street somewhere dead!" One of the boys shoved Emile, and combining that with the boys' past comments, Emile finally was done ignoring them.

"Why don't you go off to the pathetic thing you call a family? At least I've got people who actually pay attention to me, when was the last time your parent's even talked to you?" Emile spat, pushing back at the boy who seemed to be the leader of the little group, the same boy who made most of the insults and started to fights. "Even though you say you're refined, there are children in the orphanage with better manners then you, most of them can probably read better too! Oh sorry, was there a big word in that sentence you couldn't understand?"

Before they could react, Emile took off running, knowing there was no way he could take on four boys at once. He wasn't exactly the best fighter, being smaller and thinner than most boys his age. "You're dead you little bastard! Just wait until we're through with you, old lady Claire at the orphanage won't even recognize you!" he heard one of them shout, and looking back, Emile saw the four boys giving chase.

Of course they weren't going to give up easy, not yet anyway. _Idiot, idiot, idiot! Why did you do something so stupid! _Emile mentally yelled to himself, looking for anywhere to hide until his pursuers were gone. _You can't take them all on! _He looked back again, seeing that the other four boys were getting closer to him, he needed to run faster, and keep away from any obstacles.

Too bad he turned his head to late, and wasn't quick enough to avoid crashing straight into another person. "Move out of the way!" Emile shouted, and before he could slow down or alter his course, he slammed into another male, knocking them both to the ground. "What part of move don't you get?"

Emile pushed himself up off the stranger, rubbing his head where he swore a bruise was forming. "It's rude not to answer, I'm talking to you!" Emile said, more frustrated by the stranger's silence. Looking down at the person he had knocked over, it took him a moment to realize that the boy was about his age, despite the white hair, and certainly was wealthier.

The white-haired boy's jacket had silver buttons, and a crest as well; Emile thought it must have been a family crest of some sort. Only the rich could afford such a well-made jacket with those buttons and crest, but even for the wealthy, his style of clothing was very odd, unless he was mourning the dead of course. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're saying…" he said, utterly confused, and Emile realized the boy was speaking English, rather then French.

"You're a foreigner?" Emile asked, now using what he knew of English. "Why are you here? And why are you dressed so oddly?"

"I found him! Let's get him!" one of the boys from before shouted, and Emile turned, and saw the four getting closer to him by the second. There was no time to deal with the foreigner right now. "Get back here Du Vale!"

"Du Vale? As in the orphanage here?" The stranger questioned, now looking interested. Emile didn't answer though, and began running off in the opposite direction. "Hey wait! I need to know something!" he heard the other boy shouting. He needed to get back to the orphanage; there was no time for this stranger now. Emile kept running, paying no mind to the other boy's calls.

* * *

Emile found his way back at the orphanage eventually, forced to circle around almost half the city and back to the lower class districts so that he could lose his pursuers. Out of breath and tired of running, he headed inside his home, wishing only to gain some rest, and hoping dearly that there was no more families left there that were looking to adopt.

_ Well, no one in here, that's a good sign. Maybe I can make it upstairs without running into Claire, _Emile thought, slowly making his way up the steps towards the children's rooms. He couldn't help but notice exactly how empty it was, without a single child running through the halls. These children were restless, and ran through the halls and played outside for hours until they were finally forced to go to sleep, or Mother Claire decided it was time for another lesson or studying.

"Emile! You're home! And you've got a bruise on your head! Did you get in another fight? Mother Claire's going to be mad you know! Speaking of which, we've got guests! They were asking for you!" a boy's voice exclaimed, as a young girl and boy ran up to Emile, out from their room just next to where Emile was standing. Emile put a finger to the boy's lips, silencing his excited voice. "Sorry."

"Olivier, keep your voice down. Mother Claire will kill me if she finds out those boys were chasing me again. Now what's this about guests? Are they another family looking to adopt someone?" Emile asked, taking his finger off the younger boy's mouth.

"No, they didn't say anything about adopting. They looked too young, about your age. Two boys and a girl, she was really pretty too, her hair was so long, and neat, they must be rich. Only rich girl's have hair like that, and silver buttons on her clothes," the girl standing beside Oliver said, her voice showing a mix of admiration and jealousy. Of course, it was only natural for her to be jealous of a wealthy girl. While the working class girls had to wash their hair two or three times a day to keep it from getting dirty or greasy, and wore uncomfortable, cheaper dresses and shoes, without jewelry or fancy accessories, first-class girls got the complete opposite.

Emile smiled, ruffling both Oliver and the girl's light blonde hair. "Esmee, you're absolutely beautiful, I'm jealous of that hair of yours. Most people around here have such dark hair, but not you two, yours is so light colored. If I was your sibling too, do you think I'd have the same hair? And your hair is so long now Esmee; I wish mine was like it," Emile said, gaining "Now did you say silver buttons? Were they also wearing all black? And did one have white hair, like an old man, but he looks about my age?"

The brother and sister nodded in unison, and pointed to the end of the hallway, near where a small room reserved for interviews with potential parents was. "They're waiting in the room down there. Mother Claire told us to send you there when you got back," Esmee said. Before Emile could go though, she added one final comment. "That white-haired boy, he's got the mark of the devil on him. I saw that mark, it was on our parents before they passed. We heard gunshots, and ran to our house, and that was what we saw before they…disappeared…"

Her voice was faltering, and Emile could see tears forming in her eyes. Before she could start crying though, Emile wrapped his arms around the small girl's body, pulling her into a comforting hug. "It's okay Esmee, you couldn't have done anything. If that boy has the mark, it might mean he's been through the same as you. He might have been cursed, but you shouldn't outcast him just yet, not until he can explain. I promise, if he was involved, I'll give him a good beating, make him regret it. But let him explain first, okay? We don't forsake anyone until there is proof." he comforted.

"Okay…thank you Emile…"

"Anything for you and the other kids."

* * *

_AN:_

_*Sou-from what I knok this is a small currency from the 19th century, though I could be wrong, google likes lying to me -_-;_

_ Yay, first chapter is done! Reviews/Feedback would be much appreciated, I would like to know how I did. This is my first published story, and I think I did pretty well, but of course I'm open to suggestions and opinions, because I'm still new at this and could have made very huge mistakes without even realizing it. Thanks for reading :)_


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